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the tray the maid had left on the nightstand and threw it with all her force off the nightstand.
    Soup and cream, salad and a slice of fish, went flying in the air, landing on the fine rug and staining the pretty walls. Here, Ingrid found some satisfaction, but it was all for nothing because no sooner did the maid turn to see the mess did Ingrid feel a twinge of guilt.
    Even if the blonde woman showed no emotion, she didn’t deserve to clean up her mess. If anything, she wanted Leo to come in and do it himself. But nothing was helping.
    The mess cleaned up, and the shards of broken porcelain all gathered, the maid disappeared behind the door only to reappear fifteen minutes later with a new tray of food.
    That time, Ingrid just left it there, curling on her side and letting out all her frustrations out in angry tears against the fine pillows that smelled of sandalwood.
    It was later that evening, after her meal went cold and Ingrid found herself just laying there and staring into space that Leo returned.
    The door opened and she heard his footsteps, yet Ingrid dared not move and even shut her eyes to pretend to sleep.
    “Have you had enough time to consider the options?” He spoke and Ingrid was suddenly reminded that there was a knife just sitting inches away.
    “I know you’re awake, Ingrid.”
    “Leave me alone.”
    “If you wish.” He said before his footsteps began to recede.
    “Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice came out small, a tiny plea in a moment of despair.
    She heard him pause, take a breath, and finally return.
    Still she kept her eyes closed because she didn’t want to see him. If anything, she found herself strangely wishing he would just end it all.
    “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said and his voice was soft.
    The arrogance and the snarl was all gone and for a moment he actually sounded… sincere. Don’t trust him…
    “So let me go .” Ingrid insisted, and she could feel her weaknesses catch up and drag tears through her closed lids.
    He sighed again and Ingrid waited and dared hope that he was finding that shred of humanity that was in him that would convince him to let her find her freedom.
    Instead, she felt something drape over her body and Ingrid turned a startled look up. The lamp-light was dim yet she could still see his face watching her.
    “Try to sleep, Ingrid. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
    This baffled her, completely astounded her. This wasn’t what psychopaths do… and last she checked sociopaths were incapable of sympathizing, yet his expression…
    Either he was actually a nice person… or he was a damn good actor.
    Even so, Ingrid didn’t do anything but watch him leave and when the door slid shut, she was left alone with a sheet over her body and her hands still cuffed to the bed.

 
    Chapter 8
     
    She had felt a small moment of serious relief when the maid showed up the next morning, silent and expressionless as expected, and approached her with a key in hand.
    Ingrid had woken to the young woman entering the room in the wee hours of the morning and she felt hope skyrocket in her chest when the blonde woman approached her. Was she being set free, was this woman finally helping her?
    Yet, her relief and hope were short-lived when she realized she was only being unchained from the bed, her cuffs still tied around her cramping and sore wrists.
    The maid beckoned her with a simple nod of her head, but Ingrid didn’t let her hope die here and so she followed quietly, wanting to ask where she was being taken and if it lead to freedom. That wouldn’t help her with a deaf mute.
    A long time ago, when Ingrid was still in high school, she had learned sign language. But the class was only good for a simple semester and since then the knowledge had all but faded.
    All she could remember were how to say ‘hello,’ ‘my name is Ingrid’ and ‘thank you.’
    Still, it’s not like she could sign with her hands tied together. The young woman led her out of the